


Can't Wait to Get Hurt

by Vilna



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Genderbending, Identity Issues, Insecurity, Moving In Together, Pining Keith (Voltron), Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-10-06 10:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20505167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilna/pseuds/Vilna
Summary: Once there was a Keith Kogane who lost her job, fell in love, moved in with her best friend and lied to herself for 6 years.Alternatively: who, in fact, is Keith Kogane?





	1. The Apartment

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this other short fem-sheith piece ([The Low Light](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464145)) and immediately wanted to explore genderbent Keith & Shiro more.
> 
> Fast forward 3 days and I'm posting this incredibly self-indulgent AU about Keith figuring herself, her sexuality and her relationship with Shiro, out. Featuring a good boy Kosmo, hot as hell butch-Shiro, Keith having multiple existential crises at once and, eventually, their shared home. Who is Keith Kogane? would probably been better as title than a piece of the summary tbh.
> 
> I didn't put a rating just yet, simply because I'm unsure about the future contents of this fic, but in the first chapter there's descriptions of them having sex (+ mild size kink and one very tiny mention of breathplay).
> 
> I am!! exited.

She loses her job because of an accident that definitely wasn’t her fault.

They don’t really care, though, just send her on her merry way with a false pat on the back, saying how this has actually nothing to do with her and how they will make sure she gets to work as a cashier in another one of their chain of supermarkets. Keith flips them off and says she can find a better job on her own, thank you very much.

Then she goes home and drops on the floor against the front door, curling herself like a fetus, is very determinant on her no crying rule. She hears Kosmo jumping down from the bed in her room, his over-grown nails clipping against the cheap laminate. Then there’s a cold snout snuffling her wet cheeks, licking the salt away and whining in confusion.

He curls himself into a huge ball in front of her, so Keith can bury her face in his fur.

\- - - 

Shiro lies there, on Keith’s messed up sheets, and bed made out of small white lies, with her big bare tits out in the open, her brown nipples on full display. Her head is pillowed against the wooden headboard and it looks uncomfortable as hell but either she doesn’t care or she’s just ignoring it. She’s only wearing her underwear, these old and floppy boxer briefs, while Keith has already buried herself under the thick blankets, because she gets cold easily, even in the summers. She’s sleepy but not entirely content.

So, Keith stares at her, blinking when the dim night lamp teases her eyes. Of course, she stares at her. Shiro is beautiful with eyeliner smudged around her powerful storm eyes, with the faded scars on her torso (and the awful, bigger one covered with a bandage) she stopped hiding after the third time they slept together and with her sidecut hair, without shaming herself for her imperfections, not letting anyone do that to herself, either. She’s not wearing her prosthetic, it took a long while for her to be comfortable like that. Keith has always found Shiro’s trust in her hot. 

Shiro doesn’t even notice her intense gaze because sometimes she can be a little too oblivious. It’s funny when she doesn’t even recognise if someone flirts with her in bars. She could easily pull, where ever she goes, she’s like a treat for hungry mouths, but for some reason, she never does.

Which is good for Keith who’s so deeply in love with her, she disturbs herself. She’s always been too protective of their friendship, terrified something is going to rip them apart. It changed for a different kind of jealousy after they had sex for the first time. Under this roof, in this bed.

It’s not a particularly interesting story. It had rained for a week straight when it happened. They were watching some stupid movie from the tv, Shiro seemed to actually enjoy it, her laugh a rough sound in the darkness of the evening. There had probably been a thunderstorm coming. Keith was cuddled up under Shiro’s toned arm, drinking a McDonald’s stale strawberry milkshake when Shiro smiled down at her and kissed her sweet tasting lips in silence. It wasn’t weird or bad.

It all spiraled down from there and now they’re here, in this debatable friend with benefits sort of thing, that actually hurts a lot. It was fun at first, easy and it kept Shiro from falling into a dry spell – Keith didn’t care about herself too much. Then, of course, the feelings happened, as they always do. Or perhaps they were always there, buried alive under the ground.

”I should probably go home,” Shiro says at this moment. She seemingly digs her fingernails into her neck. There’s a brown mole under the spot.

”It’s really late,” says Keith. If only. It’s barely nine o’clock in the evening and Shiro’s not working for another twelve hours.

Shiro looks at her, at Keith who is under the blankets, with only her nose showing. The bedsheets are old and soft from use, Keith’s favourites. She’s not cold.

”You should stay,” Keith says or asks, she’s not sure. It sounds more like a plead to her own ears but i’s probably unrecognisable to Shiro. Keith’s cheeks burn bright but one can’t really see it in the dark.

Shiro doesn’t say anything for a moment, she just stares at the ceiling like it has all the secrets of the universe.

”Yeah,” she says eventually, ”guess I could.”

\- - - 

Shiro is a lesbian.

Keith has always known.

And it’s not because she wears her hair short and completely white, a sidecut with a cute floof of a hair sticking in the front, or because she doesn’t shave her body hair or how she wears suits when Keith puts on a dress. It’s not because she wears a lot of flanel and is tall and built like a brickhouse.

Keith knows because Shiro _told_ her. 

She did that after knowing Keith for two hours after they met at a greasy fast-food truck a few blocks from where Shiro lived at the time. She told it with a happy grin, gushed about her fiancée whom she’d known for years, but didn’t tell the name of. She wasn’t ashamed to be who she was. She still isn’t, even if the engagement got broken off seven months after that and she moved to her current place, closer to Keith.

It didn’t make Keith uncomfortable, the way Shiro remained herself. It was six years ago and Keith was nineteen and didn’t know who the hell _she_ was.

She only slept with a girl for the first time after two months of meeting Shiro. It was against a public toilet wall, in a gay bar Shiro took her for her birthday. Keith didn’t know her name, maybe it was whispered against her lips with music pounding in her ears, but she didn’t know it when she told Shiro about it later that night.

Keith told her she didn’t like it and Shiro said it was okay.

\- - -

Keith and Shiro slept together after Adam broke up with her, leaving only her engagement ring behind. It was Shiro’s grandmother’s and Adam wasn’t a complete asshole in the end.

Keith likes it more than with the shapeless girl in the public toilet of a gay bar and Shiro says that’s okay, too.

\- - - 

She doesn’t _hate_ her apartment.

It’s a rather small place, a simple, boring one bedroom, with a kitchenette and bathroom, walls are white and floor cheap cherry brown laminate, no balcony. She moved in last January and it’s definitely an improvement compared to her last place. Even if the furnishing is all over the place, but that’s Keith’s own fault. There’s a collection of dirty cocoa mugs on the coffee table, an actual rusty sword over her bed, messy sketches about faceless girls pinned to the fridge and a dog bed Kosmo hasn’t ever actually used, preferring to sleep with Keith.

She spends a lot of her days there, more of than not, with Shiro. Sometimes Lance pays a visit if only for girl advice. It’s a bit funny for him to ask from _Keith_ of all people. Keith who hasn’t even got her own life in order or figured out, let alone her relationships. Also, Allura is supposedly a little classier than Keith, anyway.

No,

she doesn’t hate her apartment. But it’s not exactly a home, either.

She wonders if she’ll ever have one.

\- - - 

In another morning, a different morning in September, she startles awake when Shiro strokes her mess of a hair with gentle, so gentle fingertips, in the early hours of the sunrise, the light shivering through the blinds. Shiro smiles at her, already up and dressed in her running clothes, wearing her prosthetic already and holding sneakers in one hand and a bottle of water under her arm.

Keith groans and presses her palms against her eyes. ”What time is it?” she asks, voice scratchy from sleep, feeling so bone achingly tired from a lot of things.

”A little after five,” Shiro answers quietly and Keith groans again. Jesus Christ, she mutters under breath but Shiro just seems amused.

”I’m going for a run,” she says grinning at the look on Keith’s face. She tousles up her hair.

”Fucking maniac,” Keith sighs, a little exasperate but fond at the same time. She will never understand Shiro’s need to go jogging every goddamn morning. Keith works out as well, of course, but in actual humane hours. ”Take Kosmo with you,” she says and Shiro gives her hair one last pet before leaving her bedside.

Keith’s massive wolf dog absolutely adores Shiro, probably as much as his owner. When Keith still had a job and Shiro was on sick leave, she often dogsat for her, took Kosmo out for walks in the park or even swimming in the nearby beach, sneaking him treats in secret and taking selfies with him in front of tourist attractions. Shiro even has this cap with Kosmo’s headshot printed on it, it looks absolutely terrible but Shiro wears it proudly.

”Was planning on it,” Shiro calls out from the hallway and Kosmo woofs excitedly. Keith can hear Shiro clicking his leash on before the door slams closed leaving Keith alone.

She brushes her hair from her face, smiling by herself. Shiro is this fucking incredible woman and Keith loves her endlessly.

This early morning, in her bed, sleepy but content, it doesn’t even bother her too much.

\- - - 

It’s 11am and a Wednesday, she’s still out of a job and slept three hours last night.

The rent is due in a week and she’s seriously considering of becoming a prostitute. In front of her, there’s a newspaper with drawn red circles around the jobs she could possibly qualify herself as. There’s also doodles of dicks.

Kosmo whines her for his food but it’s too early for that yet. She gives her a topping of her sandwich instead, a slice of expensive as fuck vegan cheese close to going bad, and he eats it happily. Barks as a thanks.

Keith sighs.

\- - - 

Shiro comes around five o’clock after work four to six times a week. She’s on desk duty for now, after getting fucking _stabbed to the gut_ the last time she made an arrest. Keith was livid with anger but didn’t leave Shiro’s bedside for a week and after that went to home because Hunk told her to get some sleep, only for her to come back a few hours later. Keith told Hunk it was because she was Shiro’s best friend.

They talk and laugh, eat and play Mario Kart in which Keith beats Shiro every damn time, fair and square. They clean up the litter, take Kosmo out for a long walk and hold hands like a real couple like Keith pretends they could be some day.

And sometimes they have sex. Good sex. Not that Keith has much to compare it to but she thinks she knows a little better now. It’s a lot about feeling.

Keith doesn’t think she’s a lesbian. Not like Shiro who never fucking wavers, never crashes to the ground without wings to hold her back. Keith feels uncomfortable wearing her own skin, like it doesn’t even belong to her. She still doesn’t know parts of herself, after 25 years on Earth, she’s unsure and feels like a little girl not knowing why she likes girls instead of boys or why she feels weird around pretty female teachers.

Keith loves Shiro.

With an exclamation mark.

It’s simple but complicated, she’s not sure if what she’s feeling is real or fake, if she’s capable of doing something so crazy, like falling in love.

She feels she’s somehow unreal. Is this really her? Is she only pretending? Who is Keith Kogane?

She doesn’t know the answers for her own questions, so one night she drinks four glasses of red wine before sleep and sees absurd dreams about Shiro and the promise of a future.

\- - - 

”How goes the job hunting?” Shiro asks. Her socked feet are on the coffee table and she keeps changing the channel every few minutes, restless. She’s absently petting Kosmo’s furry head – he has his whole body draped on both of their laps and he keeps begging for the dried peaches Shiro’s eating straight from the bag.

Keith sighs, agitated, and throws another palmful of popcorn into her mouth. In the tv screen there’s Dr, Phil trying to figure out God knows what, probably a girl who thinks she’s been pregnant for three years.

”Not well,” she says, frustrated to her very bones. She hates peaches but steals one from Shiro, anyway, even though her mouth is still full of popcorn. ”Been to a lot of interviews but seems like no one wants to hire me.”

It’s true so Shiro hums under her breath sympathetic. She pats Keith’s knee.

”If I don’t find one soon,” says Keith, slowly chewing the fruit and the popcorn at the same time. It’s not as bad of a combination than she thought, ”me and Kosmo will probably end up in the streets.

”If you will,” Shiro says, ”I’ll take care of you.”

She doesn’t even stop to think about it. She’s too honest and incredible and it fucking hurts, when Shiro bends down and kisses Kosmo’s wet snout. Keith’s heart feels swollen because she _knows_.

She knows that Shiro takes care of the people close to her; she takes her grandma to buy groceries twice week, waters Allura’s plants when she’s gone on a long business trip and even made 50 brownies for a children’s hospital bake sale with Hunk and Shay that one time.

She’s fucking amazing and she’d better know it.

Keith never even stood a chance.

\- - -

Shiro eats her out slowly, tasting and licking her like she’s worth something, like she’s worth something to _Shiro_.

This feeling isn’t new, exactly. Shiro always makes Keith feel like this like she’s a gift. Shiro said that one time. It was years ago but Keith still remembers it and how it felt to hear something like that.

_You’re so fucking beautiful_, Shiro says sometimes. _Your future someone will be lucky to have you. I hope they will love you like you deserve._

It didn’t hurt. It made her belong.

Of course, Shiro also says things like this: _You’re a good friend. You’re my best friend. I love you._

It doesn’t hurt, either. It’s fact.

Shiro eats her out for so long, Keith’s legs are trembling like aspen leaves, breath jammed in her lungs. But it actually takes her forever to come, she can’t come by herself at all, but Shiro is nothing but patient like she’s always been. She doesn’t stop before Keith gets an orgasm, sometimes makes it two, just because she likes making other woman feel good.

She’s done this a lot, it’s obvious to the roots. She teases Keith by flicking her tongue against Keith’s clit, slowly slowly slowly fingering her g-spot, while Keith shakes and moans and feels so good, it’s thoroughly surprising.

Or perhaps not. Sleeping with Shiro is always like this, it sometimes makes Keith feel fucking perfect. Shiro is… a lot of things.

But then again, she’s 32 years old, whole seven years older than Keith. She has had multiple girlfriends and a fiancée she loved deeply and dearly, more than ready to marry and stay with her forever.

And then – then there’s Keith who has never done these things. She has never made Shiro come in return because she’s too afraid to. And it’s not even about her worrying she’d be bad at it, it’s more like she doesn’t even know if she’d _like_ to do those things Shiro does to her. 

There’s this invisible line between them, she doesn’t want to accidentally cross.

Shiro doesn’t seem to mind Keith’s hesitation and Keith tries not to feel guilty as fuck about it.

\- - -

One day, she doesn’t afford to buy her vegan cheese anymore. 

Keith eats it because she somehow finds it better than dairy one, but the day comes, far too quickly, that she stands in front of the register and the cashier informs he can’t read her bank card because it doesn’t have enough funds.

It’s a particularly sad day but at least it doesn't rain.

\- - - 

Shiro is so much bigger than Keith.

Keith’s always been on the small size, not petite by any means, she’s built with lean muscle and is a lot stronger than she looks. But she’s short. Even with her heels she’s shorter than teenage boys who have not had their growth spurt yet.

She doesn’t really care that much, most of her friends know she’s pretty much unstoppable and could break their necks at any slight comment. Lance is very jumpy around her, so he either has a crush on her (unlikely) or he thinks Keith is going to bust his kneecaps open the next time he makes a smart remark.

But Shiro – Shiro’s twice as large as Keith, her thighs are like thick barrels and the size of her bicep is even more ridiculous. She scares people in a different way than Keith, she’s really tall, towering over most men, who seem to be a little scared of her. Keith is a little terrified, too. In a very good and arousing way.

Shiro can hold her _in the air_, against a wall with Keith’s legs dangling over her shoulders when they’re feeling adventurous or Keith’s needy enough to tell what she wants. She feels guilty about it, sometimes, actually a lot of times, when she asks Shiro to do all these things for her, but gives next to nothing in return.

Shiro says she doesn’t mind holding her down with her weight or getting a cramp on her hand after squeezing Keith’s throat. Keith actually believes her. 

Shiro is not one to lie, but she does tease Keith mercilessly, about having something called a size kink or whatever. 

Keith doesn’t think it would matter on anyone other than Shiro and when she tells her this, Shiro’s eyes go soft and she kisses the top of her head.

And here they are now. Shiro pressing Keith to the kitchen table with her whole damn weight, before fingering her so fast and hard Keith comes twice in a row, moaning so loud Kosmo starts scratching the bedroom door.

”Holy hell,” she says when Shiro chuckles into her mouth, breathless and free.

It’s the third month without a job and Keith’s so stressed so tight she might snap, but Shiro kisses her long and deep like something fit to last.

”You want another one?” Shiro asks after the moment has slowed down and Keith’s head is somewhat clear again. Shiro’s thick fingers are still inside of her, curling absently against her walls but when Keith shakes her head, Shiro pulls them out and brings them to her mouth, only to wipe them to her own shirt after seeing Keith’s disgusted face.

”No,” Keith says, drags Shiro down again, feeling safe under her bulk, ”just hold me like this.”

Shiro doesn’t say anything, she just settles down on top of Keith more comfortably and lets her body weight drop down.

\- - -

And when Keith finally doesn’t have the money to pay her rent anymore and gets evicted after too many monitory letters, Shiro just says,

”Move in with me,”

with open arms and hands and heart and Keith doesn’t say no, even if it’s the worst idea she’s heard for awhile.

Because this only sounds like a way to get hurt.


	2. The Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends!
> 
> I did indeed finish this chapter before flying out tomorrow, yay. Honestly, it was all because of your amazing & encouraging feedback that made me write this part so quickly, so thank you, ily. ♥ 
> 
> I'm a little nervous about posting this, tbh, because I didn't have the time to properly proof-read and edit but I hope it's still enjoyable. :')
> 
> cw for a brief mention of het sex if that bothers anyone! Pidge uses they/them pronouns & mind the rating, I changed it to explicit.

She has, in fact, have sex with men.

Exactly three men. She knew their names, even, one of them was James and he was actually kind of okay. The other two she hardly cared about, they were insignificant and boring, a means to an end. James she actually saw a whole four times after the first one, but they didn’t really do anything intimate when they last met. They just talked. Keith talked about Shiro the most. James nodded along as she told how amazing Shiro was, how she made her feel a lot of things, how she was the best thing to have ever happened to her.

He didn’t really say much, he just sat on the bed and listened. It was strange, almost. How he didn’t even flinch when Keith basically told him she was in love with another woman, he just – was completely okay with it. 

Keith wasn’t nervous, she was hardly nervous at all and that is an amazing thing, really. She’d like to be confident, always, but she wavers a lot under her feelings and appearance even if she doesn’t really care about how other people see or think about her – she only cares what she thinks about _herself_.

James was a weird one but Keith kind of liked him. She hasn’t seen him since they hugged awkwardly as a goodbye and she doesn’t particularly care to, but she remembers him. He was okay. He was good enough. Keith didn’t feel anything for him, but in the she realised he was a good guy.

But one thing he said when they parted for the last time, makes Keith still wonder. _You need to learn to be sure about what you want_, he said and hold her hand for a minute with a far away look in his eyes. Keith still doesn’t know what he meant. Maybe she would if she wasn’t so twisted inside of herself.

But nonetheless, this a truth: Keith has held a dick in her hand and she remembers the weight of it, the weird kind of softness, the bulging veins when it was hard. It wasn’t bad. It just didn’t really make her feel anything. It just was. It didn’t go really farther than that, though. She held it and jacked them off and cleaned her hand onto a paper towel and wrinkled her nose.

It just was something she did. An experience of a sort. It wasn’t suppose to go anywhere. So it didn’t.

It was only something to remember.

\- - -

Shiro has a spare guest bedroom so that’s where she will sleep.

It’s a comfy room, not really to Keith’s taste but she knows she’ll be happy to live there. The wallpaper has baby pink roses in it, it’s kind of hideous but the at the same time, it’s surprisingly Shiro-like, it’s an unseen side of her Keith hopes only she knows about. The flooring is the same parquet as everywhere else in the house, the carpet is soft and the ceiling lamp ten years old, at least.

Shiro helps Keith move all of her belongings in it, so strong she could probably do it just by herself. Keith does her part, though, even if she could watch Shiro lift things all day long.

After they’re done, they’re both sweaty, Keith gross but Shiro beautiful, and for a moment they stand there, looking at this Keith’s new room, her stuff in it, Kosmo already sleeping on the bed, probably getting his hair everywhere, because he has already started shedding. Keith doesn’t have the heart to say no to him, though, and he probably wouldn’t listen, anyway, the stubborn fucking mule of a dog.

Keith looks at Shiro who looks at her and smiles, eye corners stretched into crow’s feet, full lips bowed.

”Welcome home,” she says quietly, tentatively, and Keith just _stops_ for awhile. 

It’s a nice thought. A good thought. It makes her belong. This could be the place she could learn to be truly and honestly happy. Because this house has Shiro in it and no place with Shiro can be nothing but like a waterfall falling with warm water so it can bathed in.

”Yeah,” she says, almost as quiet.

They take a moment. It last for a few minutes. They don’t talk until Kosmo suddenly sneezes, still asleep on Keith’s bed, and Shiro chuckles, her voice the kindest thing Keith has ever heard. But it’s a hoarse sound this time.

”That was a different kind of workout,” Shiro opines then and wipes the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. 

”I’m sweating like a fucking pig,” Keith says. She’s still wearing her red NASA sweatshirt and keeps fingering her collar. Shiro already took her hoodie off and stands there wearing only a white tank top and _no bra_, her strong pecs and nipples clearly visible through it. Keith will probably have an aneurism if she keeps staring any longer, so looks at the soft carpet, imagining what it will feel like under bare toes.

”Wanna take a shower?” Shiro suddenly asks and when Keith looks at her, she’s wearing a grin with intention.

Keith shrugs. ”Sure, you can go first.”

Shiro raises her left eyebrow but the grin softens into a smile. ”I meant you and me. At the same time. _Together_.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Keith coughs but saves it with a smirk. ”Well, why didn’t you just say so?” she asks sounding way more confident than she actually is or feels, but Shiro grips her hand, soft and perfect, and leads her away.

Keith follows her like she always will.

\- - -

Shiro was the first one to actually make her feel good during sex. 

She was careful and gentle but not condescending. She didn’t ask permission for everything but listened Keith’s body language to know what was okay and what was not. Shiro was perfect for Keith, perfect and real, someone who actually cared about how she felt, someone who _accepted_ her.

Shiro has never asked Keith to change herself in order to please others. That made Keith value her over everyone else.

The other ones, the three men and the girl in a gay bar, sure did try to make her feel good, but it didn’t do anything for her. Their hands on her body felt odd and invasive, she had always been this force of nature and the hands on her body made her want to fight and defend. She suffered through them, though, just because she felt like this was something she should want and need. Se didn’t want to accept that maybe she was a freak of nature instead of a force.

She didn’t want to be different, 

she just was.

\- - -

Shiro wants to have a housewarming/welcome home party and she thinks it’s sort of ridiculous.

It’s not like _Shiro_ moved anywhere, into a new house or a new future, it was only Keith. She moved in like a leech, only because she had to, not because she wanted to. Even if she truly and honestly did want to move in with Shiro, of course she did. She just wished it was because Shiro had asked her as if it was actually something _she_ wanted as well. 

A woman can dream, Keith thinks when she spoons a very unflavored porridge Shiro made her as breakfast, into her mouth. That’s how sweet she is. She was already gone by the time Keith woke up but there was a note with smiley face attached to the fridge: 

_i made you porridge for breakfast, just reheat it in the microwave :-) also took kosmo out for a quick walk before left for work, didn’t poop though  
– S_

That smiley face makes Keith’s entire morning, probably the whole day, even if she fucking hates porridge and hasn’t even tasted it since she was seven. She’s brave and eats it all, just so she can text Shiro _thx_ and a picture of her empty bowl.

She brushes her teeth right after that, decides she’s going to take a shower later, and takes Kosmo out again for a extra long walk, just because she feels like it. This time he actually poops, too. 

Keith thinks about the note Shiro left her, thinks about the smiley face and how Shiro actually took Keith’s dog for a walk to let her start her morning a little slower, without Kosmo demandingly licking her face at 7am.

Shiro sends her another text around 12pm, that’s when she has her lunch break, and it’s a heart-eyes emoji with an addition of a sunflower, paw prints, a police officer and an avocado for some reason. 

Keith grins fondly and rubs her thumb against the phone screen, thinking that she’s so in love with her, she would fucking die for Shiro, no hesitation, no thought given. She’s shaking to her very core, bursting with joy. It’s a good feeling, the most honest thing she’s ever felt.

Then Shiro sends her a text about going to a store after work to buy ”party things” with another bunch of even more meaningless emojies (a skull, peach, balloons and a palm tree) and Keith just has to laugh out loud.

\- - -

It’s weird.

It’s weird how Keith knows without a doubt that she loves Shiro, with her very being, fiercely and wholly, would do anything for her, would fucking steal the stars from the sky if that’s what she wanted – yet. Yet.

She is not sure who, in fact, is Keith Kogane. 

A girl without purpose. No, a woman without purpose. She’s not young anymore, she’s 25 years old, drifting in space without landing zones, trying to find somewhere to belong, somewhere to be heard and listened to.

She loves Shiro. She loves having sex with Shiro. She loves spending time with Shiro. But she is not sure if she liked to touch Shiro the way Shiro touches her, so eagerly and completely fearless, like Shiro can’t even imagine not doing it. 

Shiro is 32 years old and she’s known she’s a lesbian for 18 _years_. She kissed a girl this one time when she was 14 and that was that. That’s when she knew that this is what she’ll be doing for the rest of her life – kissing girls and women. It was really that easy for her. She’s never touched a man in an intimate way, she didn’t even care enough to try. She kissed a girl two years older than herself when she was only 14 and somehow didn’t make herself crazy for thinking about it too much.

How can it be that some people have it so easy? 

How can some people be so ease with themselves when other people need to battle to the death for trying.

\- - -

She buys the red chrysanthemums completely on a whim.

Keith doesn’t really stop to consider, she just sees the small bouquet at Kroger and thinks that the flowers are kind of pretty. She buys them with a cheap price and brings them home, having held them tightly on her hand the whole ride in the subway.

She goes through all of the kitchen cabinets before finally finding a suitable vase from the tallest cupboard – she has to climb on the counter like a little girl to get it. She fills it with lukewarm water, because she’s not really sure what the temperature for chrysanthemums should be, crams the flowers in it and puts them on the kitchen table where they get sunlight.

Keith sits down and leans on her elbows, fingers linked under her chin. She doesn’t often stop to really appreciate little things like this, her mind is a hurricane that is not going to settle any time soon. But when she looks at these drooping chrysanthemums now, they make her think about Shiro.

Shiro deserves pretty things. Shiro deserves to feel appreciated and loved. Keith could make her feel those things if she tried a little harder. It’s what Shiro does for her, after all. Keith doesn’t want to take Shiro for granted just because of that.

Two months ago she moved in here. Two months that only feel like a week. Forever would probably only feel like a lifetime, in this house with Shiro and Kosmo, in this house where she’s never been happier.

This is true: Keith will always be happy with Shiro.

Shiro, of course, notices the flowers immediately after coming home. She looks a little confused to see the chrysanthemums on her shiny-clean kitchen table and pauses. She looks at Keith and then the flowers.

Keith smiles to her shirt sleeves when Shiro hangs her jacket on the back of a chair and leans down to smell them. Keith holds her breath until Shiro straightens her back and walks to Keith, bends to kiss her forehead reverently, like she’s done something earth shattering.

”You bought me flowers?” she murmurs and _god_, her voice is so surprised and gentle and precious, a sunlight tickling Keith’s cheeks.

”No,” Keith says softly and wraps her skinny arms around Shiro’s waist, hiding her face into Shiro’s stomach and thinking how she will buy Shiro flowers every damn day if that’s what makes her happy. ”I just thought they were pretty. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with you.”

Shiro doesn’t say anything but Keith knows she’s smiling into her hair.

Shiro doesn’t say anything – she just holds her.

\- - -

Once she gets so drunk, she actually calls her mom to talk about all of this.

Krolia has answers for everything Keith thinks to ask. She has advised Keith how to iron clothes without burning them, how to write official emails, how to defense herself against predators of the city. But still – she lets Keith make her own decisions, lets her forge her own path forward, guides her gently but doesn’t push. She’s also a very good listener, like moms usually are. 

Krolia calls Keith twice a week (on Tuesdays and Saturdays) just to talk and ask how Keith is doing. Sometimes they speak for 2 minutes and sometimes for an hour when Keith actually feels like she’s going fucking crazy, banging the walls of her brains in screaming in frustration. Those times, she’s the one to call Krolia first.

Shiro is her best friend and Keith knows she can talk to her about anything, they trust each other, have saved each other multiple times over the years and will continue to do so in the future, even if things between were ever complicated.

But Keith can’t actually talk to Shiro about _Shiro_ so she calls her mom and she almost never does that. It’s always the other way around.

When Krolia picks up with a soft _hello_, Keith loses it immediately. She cries because she’s drunk and lonely and loves Shiro so much, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s not making a lot of sense, she thinks she’s actually just repeating the words _mom I love her so much_ and _mom I don’t know what to do_.

Krolia doesn’t comment on her drunkenness or babbling voice, she doesn’t seem like she’s worried but that’s a false claim among many others. She cares about Keith a lot, Keith knows that. 

Keith cries and Krolia listens.

Krolia listens and Keith cries more.

At the end of the phone conversation Krolia tells her to drink a lot of water before sleep, tells her to text her when she wakes up, tells Keith she loves and trusts her. Keith still feels like shit after her mom says goodbye, but, somehow, better too. 

She didn’t really get the answers this time but Keith loves her, anyway.

\- - - 

”Why do you eat vegan cheese, anyway, you weirdo?”

She stops chewing her sandwich and looks up at Pidge who’s behind a laptop, writing something with terrifying speed and muttering to themselves, eyeglasses flashing with blue light.

Pidge has been at it for half an hour already. Shiro asked them to check her computer because she keeps getting these weird emails and porn ads every day and is getting creeped out by them. Pidge agreed to do it, very grudgingly, for the promise of free takeaway from Sal’s.

”You eat it, too,” Keith says defensively.

”Yeah, but you’re not the vegan,” Pidge says and pauses their key smashing to gaze accusingly at Keith, ”I am.” 

”I just like the way it tastes,” she says, holding her sandwich protectively. She doesn’t think she’s a weirdo. ”Dairy ones give me a stomach ache,” she defends. Kosmo whines under the table so Keith strokes his back with her bare foot, the fur warm and soft on her soles. ”Also, it’s better for the environment, I hear,” she adds pointedly.

Pidge never stops talking about the environment and global warming.

Pidge squints at her. ”Really?” they say dubiously, wrinkling their nose. Keith shrugs and makes them blink. ”Huh.”

Keith gulps down the rest of her cocoa. Shiro made it for her and she honestly makes it best, even if she… struggles in the kitchen most of the time. Only the thought of the last time Shiro tried to cook makes Keith smile. She bites her knuckles to prevent it from spreading on her face.

”Guess you’re not a _completely_ hopeless case, after all,” Pidge say and gets back to the keyboard smashing they were doing earlier.

”Watch it, four-eyes,” Keith says and points them with her forefinger.

Pidge sniffs. ”Wow, rude.”

Keith grins and eats the last bite of her sandwich. She genuinely likes Pidge, they’re fun to be around and don’t actually ask too many uncomfortable questions (like Lance). They can be a bit irritable but who actually isn’t. Keith certainly can’t claim to be better.

”Hey, play nice you two,” says Shiro and both of them look up as she walks in the kitchen with four full shopping bags, not even struggling a little with their weight. Keith can hear her putting them on the floor and she knows the wait for the weight of Shiro’s hands on her shoulders.

”Hi,” Keith says and bends her neck backwards to look at Shiro. Shiro smiles and noses her forehead gently. Keith can feel herself blushing all the way to her ears.

”Hi yourself.”

Shiro nuzzles Keith’s hair before pausing. ”Your hair smells like me,” she says. ”Have you used my shampoo?”

Keith nods. She feels completely breathless. ”Sorry.”

She could lie and say her own run out but she actually bought a new one over a week ago.

”Don’t be.” Shiro says, her voice hoarse, ”it’s cute.”

Keith breathes out shakily, loving her, always loving her so _much_. Even if Shiro will never love her back, she could die happy just for having loved her.

Pidge clears their throat.

”And hello to you, too, Pidge,” Shiro greets them warmly and stops touching Keith, who kind of wants to whine out loud but stops herself before it comes out. Shiro starts loading the groceries to the fridge and pantry, and the second she turns her back, Pidge punches Keith on the arm. Hard.

”Ow!” Keith yelps.

”What the hell, Keith,” they hiss quietly enough that Shiro doesn’t hear them. ”Are you and Shiro together or what?”

”No?” Keith says rubbing her arm. ”We’re friends.”

Pidge snorts. ”No, you’re not, you lying liar. You’re, like, secretly married or something.”

Keith frowns but her heart starts thudding with an impossible beat.

”It’s not like that,” Keith says, ”I just… like her. A lot. As a friend.” She stops. ”She’s a good friend,” she adds lamely.

Pidge shakes their head. ”I don’t believe you.”

Keith gulps at the firmness of Pidge’s voice. She doesn’t think they would actually _say_ anything to Shiro or the others, they don’t really meddle in other people’s business too much. But just the mere thought of Lance knowing of all this makes her shudder. Jesus Christ.

”Grow a pair,” Pidge just says.

Keith closes her eyes when Shiro starts humming under her breath a song that means nothing.

\- - -

She can’t remember the time her life wasn’t this complicated ball of yarn in an overhand knot.

Keith truly likes living with Shiro, they’re comfortable with each other, they trust each other and Keith never feels unwelcome in Shiro’s house, she belongs here, Keith often thinks. She belongs with Shiro, their lives are tied together in the best way possible and yet it’s the farthest thing from facile. 

She has her own room and her own bed but often she spends the night with Shiro, cuddled up under the same sheets, Keith’s legs wrapped around Shiro’s hips and Shiro’s head under her chin, face against Keith’s chest. The nights like that are when Keith sleeps the best.

Kosmo likes it here, too. Shiro has a big fenced backyard, a lush garden with a _fish pond_, and there he can run freely to his heart content, happy like dogs always are. Shiro doesn’t even mind the muddy paw prints on her expensive flooring, but Keith always wipes them hastily away with a clean rag before she can notice.

It’s been almost half a year by now and Keith is mindlessly bouncing on the walls, trying to find any kind of leeway.

It’s not easy to live with the love your life one is hopelessly pining after. It’s the opposite – as one can expect. It’s even harder when you regularly have sex with them, it gets systematically harder after every time. Loving Shiro has never been easy but it’s never been this hard, either.

Keith loves it here but she still doesn’t have a job. At this point she kind of wants to give up completely but she detests at living in Shiro’s home like a welcomed parasite, eager to take but giving nothing but problems in return.

She doesn’t care, Shiro has said. She’s glad to be able to help. She says she enjoys having Keith and Kosmo around, enjoys coming home to someone. Something about that breaks Keith up. She just wishes she could actually be someone significant, an other half, for Shiro.

Keith’s not so sure all of this. Of course, she believes Shiro when she says those things, Shiro’s still not one to lie but

it’s very difficult for _Keith_ to live like this.

\- - -

Shiro has her pinned to the mattress with her entire bulk, messily fingering her, wet and soft and achy between her thighs.

Still, Keith keeps mewling, weeping even, for more, even after having already came once, in an heart-shattering way. Shiro has turned her into this – this insatiable thing begging and pleading for more, needing the scraps of Shiro’s attention desperately to feel valuable to her. She is valuable, she knows she is, Shiro tells her frequently how much she adores Keith, but not in the way she truly wants to matter the most.

Shiro’s potent at making Keith feel good, she’s her only focus in moments like these.

”That’s it, Keith,” Shiro croaks into Keith’s ear, adding another finger to join the other two already deep inside of Keith’s cunt, ”you’re good, so good,” she says, comforts, when Keith’s red cheeks turn damp.

”S’okay,” Shiro says when Keith moans desperately again, lifting her hips and moving them against Shiro’s thick fingers.

”Shiro,” she manages to say, ”please.”

She feels – she can’t even find a word to describe it. She feels beautiful and precious when Shiro holds her like this. She feels like she could take over the world.

”I know,” Shiro croons and twists her hand, ”baby,” she whispers against Keith’s lips.

It’s a little embarrassing that that word is what makes her come at the end. But it’s a fantasy of hers – she wants to be Shiro’s baby. 

She wants to be Shiro’s _girl_.

\- - - 

She does all of the housework. Makes the beds, wipes the floors, vacuums, dusts, scrubs, recycles, takes out the rubbish, organises the mail, does the laundry, irons Shiro’s clothes, cooks dinner, loads the dishwasher, empties the dishwasher, feeds the pond fish, feeds Kosmo and – 

Keith sighs.

She honestly doesn’t mind doing these things. Shiro didn’t even asked her to, Keith just wanted to feel useful around the house in some way. She has lived here, in Shiro’s house, for ten months now. She doesn’t think it’s fair, to her to spend all her time at home doing nothing.

And isn’t that curious. Home. She never thought she would have one again.

She’s not sure what it will take of her to keep it.

\- - -

She’s a little surprised that Lance eventually gets his act together and proposes to Allura.

Keith knew about it before hand, of course, because of a reason unknown to her, they are rather good friends, she and Lance. Or at least that was what Lance said when he told her about his plans and asked for advice, like Keith would know anything about that sort of thing just because she’s a woman. How could she know anything about that kind of thing?

Keith is probably never going get married. It’s a sad thought.

Nevertheless, she’s surprised when he actually does it and she’s even more surprised that Allura doesn’t even hesitate to say yes. Not because Keith thought she didn’t love Lance or anything like that, but because it’s such a big thing. To bind yourself to another person. To make a promise to stay with someone. Forever.

Yet, she remembers what happened to Shiro. Shiro was so in love, so fucking in love with Adam, she would have done anything for her. Everything Adam would think to ask, Shiro would deliver without taking nothing back. Keith wonders what’s it like, to love someone so badly only for it to break apart like shattering glass.

She doesn’t think she could do it.

Here she is: in an intimate engagement party drinking the cheapest champagne Lance could find and staring at Shiro who is, in fact, talking to Adam.

Adam who has her hand on Shiro’s arm, whose laugh is pretty. Keith can heart it even across the room.

She didn’t know she would be here. Neither did Shiro. She’s just fast to adapt.

Keith is talking with Allura, who’s actually so fucking beautiful it makes Keith blush, drinking a third glass of the cheap champagne, her flute halfway empty. She’s smiling and trying to follow the conversation, despite the constrictive feeling under her chest, like her ribs are trying to wound her lungs.

She keeps stealing glances at them, lets Allura’s soft lullaby of a voice fall into deaf ears.

Shiro’s arm is around Adam’s waist, hand resting against the hipbone. She’s stiff as a rock, though, and Keith takes comfort in that. The dress Adam is wearing is silk and tight-fitting, she’s a little taller than Shiro with the ankle breaking heels she’s wearing, her long and brown hair falling like a waterfall over her narrow shoulders. 

She’s pretty enough next to Shiro who’s the most gorgeous woman Keith’s ever seen. There’s an earnest smile on Adam’s face and Keith feels crushed to her very soul.

”Keith,” says Allura, ”are you even listening?”

Keith startles and quickly turns her gaze back on Allura who seems vaguely irritated at not being listened to. But then she seems to notice the devastated look on Keith’s face. She frowns. ”Are you quite alright?”

”Sorry,” Keith swallows, ”I’m fine.”

Allura glances at Shiro and Adam over Keith’s shoulder, Keith resists the urge to do the same so she drinks her champagne flute empty instead. She wants to throw up.

”You don’t need to worry,” Allura says gently and Keith has this feeling Allura knows far more about Keith than she would like her to. ”I know Shiro well and all that,” she waves at Shiro and Adam’s direction, ”is never going to happen again.”

_Keith_ is the one who knows Shiro well. She knows her in every way possible, like the back of her hand, like the other half of her. She knows Shiro like no other.

”It’s not any of my business,” she lies.

\- - - 

Shiro’s been talking about going to her grandparents summer cabin once the weather starts growing warmer.

She’s clearly excited about the thought of spending her vacation days there, she talks about the clear sky, endless lake and the surrounding forest, the juniberries and lupines, the fields of different kinds of wild flowers. Her grandma still tends the garden and the peach trees whenever she can. 

It must be beautiful.

Keith is just not sure if it’s a place she deserves.

\- - -

There comes a day she finally wants to try to do it.

Shiro hasn’t pushed or asked, she seems to completely happy with their current arrangement, but still Keith wonders. For herself. She loves Shiro, this is true, but she needs to know if she can ever commit to a relationship with another woman – with _anyone_.

She needs to know if she can ever be with Shiro if the time comes. At this moment, she’s almost certain it will. Sooner or later, Shiro will ask or Keith will go mad and then Keith must have an answer. She must find an answer to who she really is. 

It’s a rather terrifying thought – even if Shiro is the safest person in the whole damn world.

”I wanna – umph,” Keith says, gasping for breath as Shiro licks her nipple and rubs her thumb lazily against her clit. ”I wanna do that – ah – to you, too,” she pants and Shiro pauses.

”What?” she asks, lifting her head from Keith’s chest.

Keith flushes but her jaw is set. ”I want to make you come, too,” she repeats, scowling a little at the confused look on Shiro’s angular face. Shiro blinks.

”Really?” she asks after awhile, the idea’s clearly appealing to her but she’s always thinking of Keith’s comfort.

”Yeah,” Keith says and shifts on the mattress, making herself more comfortable under Shiro’s weight. She’s nervous as fuck but she hopes it’s not too obvious. She wants to do this. 

”You want me to sit on your face, too?” Shiro grins and Keith’s whole face colors. Shiro looks happy.

”Well...” Keith giggles, feeling annoyed at herself. She fidgets under Shiro’s eyes for so long Shiro just starts laughing and kisses her forehead.

”Let’s just take it one step at the time,” Shiro says. ”What do you feel comfortable doing?”

Keith nibbles her lower lip. ”I… don’t know.”

Shiro face is tender when she brushes her fingers through Keith’s messy braid. It pains Keith, a little, to have someone look at you like that. Like you’re a whole world. Shiro is so kind and good, Keith doesn’t deserve her attention or devotion but she’s definitely too selfish not to keep it to her person.

”Start slow,” Shiro whispers and brings Keith’s hand to her strong shoulder. Keith’s fingers tremble as she traces the bare skin, the few moles on it, the plain of dry skin, the long, thin scar Keith has never noticed before. After a minute or so, Shiro slides Keith’s hand on another part of her body, to her neck.

”Just touch me for now,” Shiro says quietly, watching Keith her reactions intently.

Keith tries to keep her breathing steady but it hitches when her fingertips glide on Shiro’s skin, exploring the new territory with hesitation unknown to Keith. She touches Shiro’s jaw, her throat, her collarbones.

Eventually Keith cups the swell of Shiro’s breast with her palm. Its skin is soft, the areola and the nipple are both big and brown and there’s a stretch mark slicing the gentle curve of it. Keith’s own are small and insignificant, yet Shiro has touched hers countless of times and it has always felt good.

Keith fights the urge to snatch her hand away when Shiro leans a little bit closer and breathes against her cheek. ”It’s alright, baby,” Shiro reminds her softly and Keith releases the breath she’s been holding.

”I know,” she says shakily, ”it’s always alright with you.”

The words are easy and true. They make Shiro’s eyes widen and Keith’s cheeks flush but they are true. Keith wouldn’t have the courage to do this with anyone else. Not like this. The other ones, they were nothing.

And now, in this moment, Keith is still scared when she slips her fingertips under the boxer briefs Shiro’s wearing. Shiro trembles when Keith feels her hard lower stomach with feather-light touch, meets the rough pubic hair and shes’s just – she’s so fucking nervous. 

She’s not sure she can do this. She wants to, but she doesn’t know if she actually can go through with it. 

”Do you want me to take them off?” Shiro asks. Her voice has a husky echo.

Keith’s mouth is a desert. She swallows and nods, trying not to panic.

Shiro slips her underwear off, bares her whole body to Keith who can’t even look at her. She’s fucking gorgeous, Keith knows, so fucking beautiful it makes Keith bleed, but she can’t – she just _can’t_.

”Keith,” Shiro says.

”Shiro,” Keith says and realises that her eyes are wet and her cheeks are damp, ”Shiro, please.”

Shiro sighs deeply. ”What do you need, baby?” she asks. Her voice has a tender feel, still. She strokes Keith’s cheek with her thumb.

”I can’t,” Keith says, feeling completely devastated. She wanted this so badly for Shiro, for _herself_. She just loves Shiro, so much.

Shiro pauses. 

”I wan’t to – Shiro, I promise,” Keith cries, ”I just...”

”It’s okay, Keith,” Shiro soothes her, ”you don’t need to –”

”But I want to!” Keith wails. She has never felt so low. ”Shiro, I want you,” she finally whispers between her breaths, her eyes drippng her heart out. 

”Shiro,” she says, tears flowing across her cheeks,

”I _love_ you.”

\- - -

The drive to Shiro’s grandparents summer cottage takes four very long hours by car.

It’s even more beautiful than it was in Keith’s dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. ♥ I appreciate kudos & comments of any kind, as always. I will always reply to them, too! :')
> 
> (Also tbh I screamed a little when I wrote that Keith wanted to be Shiro's girl because S A M E.)


	3. The Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys. ♥ 
> 
> Here is finally the last chapter if anyone is interested after such a long wait. I've got no excuse really so I'll spare you from them, I'm really sorry. :-( Can't believe I actually finished something, this is like the longest fic I've written since 2015 lmao. Feels kind of good.
> 
> I hope this last chapter doesn't disappoint you guys because I'm not 100% happy with it and there's some stuff in there I'm unsure about. So I'm kind of nervous but like. I really wanna post this, I'm sick of worrying about it & I want to focus on writing other stuff, too! So, here goes, I hope you guys enjoy, at least a little.

She doesn’t quite remember the time before Shiro anymore. She doesn’t particularly want to.

Because Shiro is Keith’s true beginning, in a way. Keith was nineteen and met Shiro by a greasy fast food truck and nothing else that happened before that mattered no longer. It was a half life, she floated on the surface of the world, didn’t know how to swim but was too scared to learn. Shiro taught her that – how to press forward and yet still not to drown.

It’s an important skill, Keith learned. She still doesn’t know who she is, no one else can tell her that, not even Shiro. She’s sort of a broken record as she repeats these things to herself, but in her world, time is precious.

This is true but difficult: past is only a past.

\- - -

They say you stop hearing the crickets, when you turn seventy.

She hears them singing in the long, messy grass that’s so green, it’s almost unreal. She listens to them in this lukewarm summer night, their loudness and obnoxiousness disrupting her long line of capricious thoughts. She’s shredding the invasive dandelions from the ground with her fingers, dirtied by earth and soil, as she’s thinking about Shiro like she often does. 

Keith’s sitting on the porch stairs of this cottage Shiro brought her to, happy and so, so genuine. The summer night is descending on her. She can smell the juniberries in the air. Shiro’s grandma has planted some on the flowerbed under the large windows facing west and they’ve only just bloomed now.

At the moment Kosmo is digging the ground with vigor after having explored the whole area thoroughly, smelling every damn bush and stone and outdoor furniture. He even pissed on a tree stump to mark it as his own. Keith was initially a little embarrassed by his behavior but Shiro only laughed before going inside to unpack her bags and make tea or whatever the hell she said she was going to do.

The night is beautiful. So is this whole place and Keith has only seen very little of it. There’s supposed to be horses at the nearby farm and Shiro has talked about taking her to horseback riding, excited beyond imagining, when she described this childhood home, for this place clearly is a second one to her.

Keith has a lot of hope for the time they will spend here -- hope that being here will bring them back to each other.

They haven’t really talked properly since stopping to a gas station for its dusty food and stupid gambling machines that Shiro won 14 dollars from. She bought Keith a chocolate bar and a vain gossip magazine that’s still unread in her bag.

Stupid, Keith thinks. She’s so fucking stupid sometimes. 

Perhaps Shiro is, as well.

“Keith.”

She doesn’t jump from surprise of the disturbance, but it’s a near thing. She turns to look at Shiro who has her arms crossed close to her chest. She’s so tall, particularly as she stands on the porch, towering over Keith. It still amazes and arouses Keith.

“Will you come inside?” Shiro murmurs quietly. One can barely hear it in the dusk. “I made some cocoa,” she continues, voice gentle and kind, like it always is. This time it’s also soothing, like Keith is a spooked deer ready to bolt into the woods at any minute. Keith can’t deny that she kind of wants to.

“There’s scones, too.”

“Did you make them? Because if you did, I’ll pass,” Keith says, but her voice is not harsh or annoyed. She’s not angry at Shiro, she hasn’t done anything wrong. Neither of them has. Shiro probably doesn’t even know that the balance is uneven between them. Maybe it isn’t.

Shiro chuckles in a kind tone. She steps down the stairs and sits right next to Keith. She smells like the shampoo Keith always steals and uses -- as a reminder for herself.

“I didn’t,” Shiro admits. She stretches her neck towards the dark sky dripped with stars, “but I bought them from the gas station so I might as well have.”

“Hah,” Keith says. There’s a beginning of a smile on her face as she finally turns to look at Shiro and sees that her eyes are clear and tender. Keith swallows when Shiro leans in and presses her lips against Keith’s temple. It’s not a kiss, only a small touch of lips, yet Keith feels strangely euphoric. Shiro breathes against her hair for a short while and Keith trembles and counts seconds, trapped as a prisoner by her own confusing emotions.

She misses Shiro so much when they’re apart, always have and always will, but sometimes she feels like the distance between is better.

Because she loves her more than anything and love will never be simple.

“Keith,” Shiro says suddenly, filling up the silence, “you think too much.”

Keith frowns.

But then Shiro only gets up and offers Keith her hand, the prosthetic of painful memories, she takes it and lets Shiro pull her to her feet and lead her inside, fingers entwined like it’s written in fate.

(If only fate wasn’t bullshit.)

\- - -

The thought of sleeping arrangements at the cottage was sobering to her.

After she moved in with Shiro, they had sex most nights in Shiro’s room because the bed was comfier and the strings didn’t creak. Keith fucking hated when they did, it made her feel embarrased and turned on and _that_ made her loud as fuck. 

So they mostly slept there together, even though that didn’t always help with Keith’s loudness in bed, if she was completely honest. Shiro brought it out of her. There were nights that Keith spent in her own room, but they were getting more and more rare as time passed, it was simply more convenient that way. Keith didn’t want to sleep without Shiro anymore so she didn’t.

But now, it’s a lot more complicated than that. 

The cabin has three cute little bedrooms and Shiro has automatically taken all of Keith’s things in the largest one, the cozy master bedroom with its own bathroom. Shiro herself has claimed a smaller one with a rustic appearance.

You can see the gorgeous lake straight from the window of Keith’s new room, but it does little to ease her frantic mind.

\- - -

The first morning at the cabin, exactly 8am, she makes blueberry chocolate chip pancakes with so much sugar she’s fairly sure her teeth will fall off, if she eats more than one. There might also be extra Nutella on top, just because she knows that Shiro absolutely adores it with her pancakes -- even if she always complains, after eating them, about her daily calorie intake or whatever the hell she’s so strict about.

The blueberries she found growing next to a greenhouse that was so old she was surprised it was even standing. A quick look inside, however, told her that there were still different kinds of vegetables growing in. Under a layer of weeds, there were ripe carrots, cucumber and pepper, all of which she could use for a dinner, sometime. She would just have to maintain the greenhouse a little as Shiro’s grandma has clearly given up on that. Shame.

Keith hums under her breath as she flips a cooked a golden brown pancake into a plate and pours another portion of the batter on the pan. She frowns as it starts smoking, the butter on it almost black and the smell absolutely terrible. She wrinkles her nose.

“Shit,” Keith says just as the fire alarm starts shrieking absolute murder, so loud her ears are ringing. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mutters under her breath, rising on her toes trying to reach it. She’s too short and the alarm just keeps on going. Kosmo whines with his tail between his legs. “Will you just shut the fuck up!” she yells, getting more frustrated by the minute as patience has never been her strongest suit. And now it wears thin even quicker than before. The reason is clear to her.

“I swear to god --” she starts but then a hand reaches over her head to press the alarm shut without any difficulty. Keith can just see the smug on Shiro’s stupid face without turning around. Yet, she’s also immediately aroused, can feel the wetness between her thighs just from this simple act, and it’s probably already messed up her red gym shorts.

She’s so fucking easy for Shiro, she’s always going to be till the day, she dies from it.

“Problems?” Shiro asks, amused. Keith can feel Shiro’s smile against her hair, sweet and honest, no clue what she does to Keith just by simply existing. It’s so strange, it’s like she stopped recognising herself six years ago, when she met Shiro. It’s like Keith became a completely different person.

“No,” Keith answers petulantly, turning around and immediately finding herself caged in Shiro’s arms. “I’m fine.”

Shiro’s large hands curl around her waist, squeezing just a bit, like in hopes of leaving fingerprints. “Yeah?” she teases, the grin on her face impossibly devastating. Keith smiles back like she always does, more than a habit at this point. She will never be able to resist Shiro -- something she should learn to come to terms with.

Keith takes a step back and turns back towards the stove. “I made pancakes,” she says. Shiro peers over her shoulder at the mess. At least a few of them look good enough to eat, some of them are a bit more… burned than the rest. 

_Rest in peace_, Keith thinks. It’s the kind of joke Shiro would normally say but now she just tells her this:

“You didn’t need to, baby.”

She sounds happy beyond reason about this small little thing Keith has done frequently for her in the past. Keith has to close her eyes and count to ten to avoid spontaneously fainting onto the floor. She will never not love her, it’s the realest truth she knows. She will always be on Shiro’s mercy in all things.

“I know how much you like them,” Keith mutters under her breath with bitten lips, cheeks turning cherry red and eyes _damp_ like she’s some sort of fucking weakling. She feels a little stupid, about all of this. Shiro and her aren’t really together, they never have been. The closest thing what they were was best friends with benefits.

And now, maybe not even that because of Keith’s cursed fucking tongue.

They didn’t sleep together last night. After having unpacked and eaten frozen pizza for dinner, they withdraw to their own bedrooms, without even a usual goodnight kiss exchanged between them. Keith felt the distance keenly and desperately, staying up till the early hours of the morning before finally falling under for a few restless hours. She didn’t dream of anything. 

“Thank you,” Shiro says quietly and kisses the bare skin of her shoulder, peeking beneath the tank top she slept in. It burns through Keith’s body to her heart where it clutches, not ever letting her go from Shiro’s figurative grip.

Keith trembles, inside and out. She has no words left. None. She wants to break something. This is the only thing that leaves from her lips: “You’re welcome.”

It’s simple and not at all what she wants to say. She wants to ask why Shiro plays with her feelings, this tug-of-war Keith will never win. It’s as if some part of Shiro knows it and does it just to hurt her, by giving Keith only scraps of what she wants. Yet, Shiro has never been cruel. She’s the kindest woman Keith knows, with a heart of gold so valuable, people would pay for it. Keith doesn’t know what to think about all of this. If she was just a little braver, maybe she could get the answers she needs. She’s not. Not in this, not in regards of Shiro.

Shiro lets her go and leaves to take out her grandma’s old plates from the cabinet above the sink, and oat milk out of the fridge, silently gathering the utensils and setting them on the table, moving Keith gently out of the way as she goes.

“C’mon,” Shiro murmurs finally, voice raspy, and tugs Keith’s hand, “let’s eat.”

\- - -

During the years she has learned that some things are meant to be strange and unexplainable. 

It’s a different thing to learn to accept it. 

She has these ideas in her head, ideas of how not to be _incomplete_. How to be _normal_. These are the things she wants to be more than anything. She doesn’t want to feel like this, her whole life she’s struggled with herself, trying to find an identity that fits her. And for a moment she thought she had it.

When Keith turned 17, she was sure she was one of _those_ people. The ones who didn’t have room for sex or love in most forms. She didn’t know what those people were called, she only knew that they existed. She figured herself out, one could say and she was more than happy with the conclusion. She didn’t need those things, she didn’t care. She was fine being lonesome, she was fine being without meaningful friendships, she was fine without a boyfriend like she was fine without Dad.

And then she was 19 years old and met Shiro and every piece of her newly found identity went to _shit_.

\- - -

She’s completely alone in her room for the night, Kosmo having taken residence in Shiro’s bed for a change. 

He adores Shiro, always has, just like his owner does, and it’s truly a mutual feeling. It’s weird and a little creepy, but she’s not sure which of them she should be more jealous of, both of them important and loved. It’s natural, Krolia would say with a grin, to be jealous of other people getting on well with one’s pet, just like it’s natural to resent unrequited love. A strange allegory, but she supposes there’s truth in it.

But yes, she’s alone and usually this means she watches conspiracy theory videos or researches alien sightings with her IPad, but today -- today she has something else in her mind. Something that has haunted her, all this time.

She hasn’t done this in a long while, gave up after trying too hard too many times. But now, she needs to know. She’s frustrated beneath her skin, aching and hurting in so many different ways that leave her bleeding.

She slips her hand underneath her night shorts and touches herself.

She has a slight sheen of sweat on her skin, from being so nervous that her pulse fucking shakes in her throat. She’s uncertain as she slides down her shaking hand to her pubic hair. She’s never shaved down there -- the one time she tried, it left her skin itchy and red. Hell, she hasn’t shaved _anywhere_ since last spring because Shiro once idly said she prefers her women with hair. Stupid.

Keith touches her chest, rubs her nipples with one hand with the other one in her cunt, trying to feel herself up, trying to make her feel something, _anything_. She feels absolutely nothing. Not a thing. 

She’s not even fully wet, has never been able to go past the awkwardness, when she’s alone. It feels so… weird to hide under the covers and touch herself, it makes her feel ashamed. It’s not like anyone ever properly taught her the hidden secret of masturbation. She has always done it in her own way and her own way apparently fucking _sucks._

Keith screams into her pillow, her feelings raw and real and painful, she’s the fucking ugly duckling, who doesn’t belong anywhere, in any group she knows.

She thinks of Shiro, the way Shiro makes her feel good. She’s fucking amazing, succeeding in a thing no one else ever has, not even Keith herself. How curious, for someone to be so full of confidence. Keith doesn’t know anything about that, she’s always felt weird in her own skin, even if she does keep a good mask with her annoying and bratty attitude. Deep down, she’s just a woman with a burden like so many others are.

So, Keith’s thinking about Shiro and her touch, trying to mimic it with her own clumsy hands. She kind of hates fingering herself, it doesn’t do a lot to her -- earlier she has had most luck with rubbing her clit, but today even that doesn’t help.

She can’t do it herself, not without Shiro. She can’t remember if she ever has made herself come or did it end up like this, with frustrated tears all the way down to her neck and hurt so profound she doesn’t know how to live with it.

She shouldn’t need another person like this. She hates to depend on anyone, she’s her own fucking person and stronger than this and she _knows_ it. She’s not this weak. Keith grimaces and pulls her fingers out of her cunt, defeated for the moment.

Keith gets up from her bed and and opens the room door like a robot with no actual instructions and tiptoes to the quiet hallway, walks till she reaches Shiro’s room. Its door is slightly open with fumbling light shining through the crack. She can see Shiro whom has her eyeglasses on, reading a book with a focused expression on her face. Her long legs are draped over Kosmo’s back as if he’s a convenient footstool, pleasantly sleeping.

“Hey,” Keith says quietly, voice filled with internal pain. Shiro startles at first but her face quickly shapes into a surprised smile.

“Hi, Keith,” she murmurs, putting away her book on the nightstand. There’s a spaceship on the cover of it, and it makes Keith smile. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers, not quite a lie but definitely not the truth.

Her expression gives her away, though, as Shiro’s eyes turn immediately to worried. “Are you okay?”

Keith sits on Shiro’s bed, gives Kosmo a scratch behind his ear. “No,” she admits.

Shiro hums under her breath, combs her fingers through Keith’s hair. The touch is welcome but not entirely needed. Everyone is lonely, in the end.

“Something I can help you with?” she asks, always so kind and understanding. It breaks Keith’s heart into tiny little pieces which she should learn to sew together. 

She has never been good with a needle and thread.

So, this is a truth Keith has trouble admitting: 

“No.”

\- - -

She hasn’t have sex with Shiro since her badly timed confession of love.

She misses it, misses the feel of skin on skin, the bite marks on her inner thighs, how her lips are sore from kissing. But it’s not that Shiro has avoided Keith -- Keith is avoiding _her_.

Sometimes Shiro looks like she wants to talk to her about it; she will have this heartbroken expression on her face, she bites her lip and messes up the eyeliner. But Keith can’t talk about it with her, she physically cannot. It makes her cry when she thinks about it too hard but it doesn’t make it any easier to face. She denies, denies and denies, buries herself deep under the truth that already left from her mouth like the emotional wreck she is.

Shiro seems just as devastated, somehow, as if she’s not the one with nothing to lose. If she will ever get tired of Keith, tired of her antics, she will find someone new, because she’s the most amazing woman Keith knows. She has a lot of room for love.

And Keith has risked losing her. The unrequited love of her life. The torch she holds for her, will never lose its flame or wither in the wind.

Shiro kisses her, sometimes, though. It seems like she can’t help herself, she just leans in and does it. It’s soft and gentle, questioning and demanding at the same time, like she’s trying to find out the truth in the way they both know intimately.

Keith always answers, but, as time passes with no meaningful words switched between, they become more and more rare and finally they’re here, in a time where they’re awkward and too careful with each other, not doing anything to change things.

Keith isn’t sure how they’re going to move past this Mount Everest made out of heartbreak.

\- - -

She looks at the horse who is clearly judging her. She looks at Shiro who beams brighter than the heating sun. Then she looks at the horse again. The horse that Shiro expects her to ride with.

Keith frowns. She has never touched a horse before in her life and it seems like the horse knows it, as well. She neighs, clearly unsatisfied.

“Are you scared?”

There’s a teasing hue in Shiro’s voice as she shields her eyes against the sunshine with her hand. She’s wearing red flannel today as a rebellion against the hot weather, the sight absolutely fucking devastating. She’s so tall and muscled and stunning and handsome -- she’s everything a girl would want. She’s everything _Keith_ wants.

“A little,” Keith says with as much dignity as she can muster. Somehow that makes Shiro’s smile even broader, her face full of happiness and affection. It makes Keith’s heart swoop and yet she feels extremely fucking guilty at the same time.

They drove half an hour to this small horse ranch on the other side of the lake. Shiro wanted to take Keith riding and she can’t deny Shiro anything, so here they are now, ready to spend the day as a riding trip to see a waterfall deeper in the forest. Shiro said there’s no words to describe it. Keith isn’t sure about any of this and her horse seems to agree.

Shiro walks over from her own horse who is grazing the grass lazily, tail swinging back and forth to scare off the flies from his rear. He’s a beautiful stallion, pure white with a few black asymmetrical spots ornamenting his frame. Shiro called him Atlas. She’s ridden him before, she tells Keith. She’s spent 15 summers doing so and actually spent 7 years to make enough money to buy him from the ranch owner -- even though it practically changed nothing. Atlas obviously couldn’t live in the city and Shiro only came to visit her grandparents once or twice a year.

Yet, Shiro says that the day she signed the papers that made her the official owner of Atlas, was one of the happiest days of her life.

It makes Keith feel a little funny inside. She hopes that she could share that kind of day with Shiro. The happiest day of her life. She has some ideas about it, ideas that she wouldn’t ever admit aloud, she would never even give a voice to.

Shiro smiles at Keith, now. Keith blinks a little. She’s still a little suspicious of her own horse, even though she’s as gorgeous as Atlas. Auburn colored with a black mane and hooves, eyes kind and brown. Shiro said earlier she has a feisty soul just like Keith, winking afterwards in the way that always makes Keith’s knees tremble.

Her name is Red. Keith pets her flank with an unsure touch and Red huffs at her. Then she nudges Keith’s face with her surprisingly soft muzzle. Keith laughs with surprise and turns to look at Shiro who is smiling at her in a sheer adoring way, making Keith’s emotions stumble down this hill of feeling as a ball of hurt and she _can’t_ \--

“Here, let me,” Shiro says and comes closer, so much closer. She takes Keith’s hand, brushes her thumb across her knuckles. 

This is what Shiro says when she helps Keith to climb on the saddle:

“Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”

The words are intimate. Keith gulps too much air.

“I will always got you, baby.”

This is the first time Keith hears something close to frustration in Shiro’s voice.

“I know,” she whispers on deafs ears.

\- - -

They rode from the waterfall back to the lake to watch the sunset glide slowly behind the forest on the opposite side of the water. It was this pink and orange coloured sight that could make someone weep, so gorgeous it was difficult to find words for it. Incredible how such a view could be so full of feeling, so full of will to keep living. 

Shiro held her hand through it, the touch was shy, somehow. Like Shiro wasn’t sure whether it was welcome or not. How ridiculous -- Keith would let Shiro do anything to her. Bury her deep under the sand and let the low tide bury her, make her a commanded shadow who will follow her till the world ends, torture and make her hurt until she ceases to exist.

Anything. Anything with no questions asked. Keith doesn’t know how to love her in another way. She doesn’t have a lot to give except her entire fucking devotion, so deep she almost dies every day for it.

Keith doesn’t want to love in another way than this.

\- - -

She sort of hates summer.

This is a thought she has while laying on a hammock that’s knotted between two aspen trees, safe and secure as Shiro was the one to set it up. The pillow under her head is lumpy and an IPad is unusable on her lap because of the sun being so fucking bright it already gave her a headache. There’s a few mosquitos eager for blood constantly whining in her ear and every time she kills them, new ones seem to appear from thin air. It’s slowly driving her absolutely out of her mind, she’s irritated and tired in a way that makes her doubt her own existence.

Keith closes her eyes, deciding to revolt against the day and sunlight, and not only because her mood is sour today. Sometimes she wishes that she would be one of those people who can fall asleep in 10 seconds no matter time or their whereabouts. It would be useful in situations like this, when you have nothing to do but _think_. But it takes Keith usually two full hours to fall asleep every night and she definitely never takes naps. 

Unlike Shiro who loves to take them. When she’s off from work, she sometimes goes to sleep two times in the middle of the day. But she’s weird and times them out and never naps over 15 minutes. Keith is in love with a crazy lady. It made her a little lunatic, too.

A stupid thing to smile about.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil. Keith doesn’t open her eyes, not yet. She’s exhausted.

“Mm.”

Keith can sense how Shiro walks closer to her, her footsteps dragging on the grass, her shadow following closely. She can hear Shiro’s grin, how it drips from the edges of her lips, paints her whole face with its shine. Keith shields herself from it, eyelids pressed firmly together. She has always been so easy.

Shiro is quiet and doesn’t say anything for awhile, just lets silence lie between them. There’s only sounds of summer in the background of their thoughts. Keith cracks one eye open when she starts to feel uncomfortable from Shiro’s obvious stare, yet mouth shut like its gagged.

Then Keith feels how the hammock stretches towards the ground because of additional weight and suddenly Shiro is heavy right on top of her, with their chests and legs pressed together. Shiro’s fingers are tangled in Keith’s mess of hair, her thigh pressed against Keith’s jean shorts covered cunt so firmly it almost hurts.

“What --” Keith starts but can’t finish as Shiro immediately takes advantage of her open mouth and pushes her tongue in, in this almost violent way, like she’s trying to make Keith entirely her own. Keith is too confused to answer the kiss at first but after Shiro doesn’t stop, just claims and claims more, like she doesn’t already have all of Keith -- Keith responds in a biting way, just as desperately.

She has missed Shiro, too, missed in a way that’s too hard to describe in meaningful words.

“Shiro,” Keith says between their jagged breathing, a name she knows with her entire being. Shiro hums against the skin of her neck, sucks a mark under her jawline. “Shiro, wait -- fuck!”

Shiro doesn’t stop so neither does Keith. It’s impulsive and hot and possessive and so _right_. Yet, there’s a strange undertone in Shiro’s behavior, she is never like this, has never kissed Keith this way -- like she will die if she doesn’t do it.

“Shiro,” Keith gasps again, desperate for her touch, wet and so fucking needy. Shiro makes a rumbling sound over her as she rips Keith’s shorts off her and pushes her fingers deep into the place where Keith’s wet and molten and aching like a whore who enjoys her job too much. 

“Please, I need --” Keith says, frantic, as she tears open the buttons of Shiro’s shirt and touches her naked, smooth skin with her palms.

“Shh, baby,” Shiro rasps, her lips shining with spit, eyes shining like fever, “don’t talk.”

Shiro presses her thumb to Keith’s clit that’s swollen and pink and _soaked_ under the too long pubic hair that Shiro pulls with her fingers, hard, in the way she knows Keith loves. Shiro cups her whole mound with her huge hand, the palm wet with Keith’s slick. Keith adores Shiro’s hands, they’re rough, calloused, but always gentle when Keith needs it.

Always _rough_ when she needs it.

Shit, Keith thinks, when Shiro keeps fucking her like this is the last day on earth, her cunt shivering from the force of it. It feels so good, it doesn’t take long for her to come, the orgasm life changing, in a way. Her body feels alive, again.

Afterwards, Shiro pulls out her fingers and brings them to her own fucking mouth, licking them dry again, watching Keith keenly, like she’s expecting for something.

Keith swallows and offers these words, “I could… try t-to…”

“No,” Shiro says.

Oh.

“Oh.”

\- - -

After all of that, when she has pulled her shorts back up and Shiro has pressed a tiny kiss to her temple, Shiro tells Keith that she thinks too much.

Shiro says she thinks too much about who she _should_ be and not enough who she _wants_ to be. Those things aren’t mutually inclusive, Shiro lets her know. What a curious thought. Keith has never even considered such a thing.

It’s possibly the best advice Keith has ever gotten.

Shiro says a lot of things as they lie beside each other at the hammock, bodies pressed too tightly together and hearts pumping too much blood. It’s a really nice moment. They haven’t been this close to each other for what feels like a long time. It’s been a little over two weeks, but it felt like a forever with no end in sight, forever without a pin point. Now Keith has this again, however fleeting it might be.

Her mind is completely upside down with no real examples for a solution, but maybe it has always been this simple. Maybe she never even needed one, but was so full of self hatred and doubt, so much doubt, that it never even crossed her fucking mind.

Shiro holds Keith close, with her hair as a loving playground for Shiro’s big hands. Keith turns her head to press her lips against Shiro’s cheek. It’s soft under a few imperfect acne scars. 

Shiro smiles at the sky, they can see a glimpse of over the trees and it’s blue and big and _endless_.

\- - -

She stares at the lake. The surface of it is slightly muddy and grainy, almost a light brown colour but there’s a touch of water lilies deeper on, along with weeds and bulrushes. She can also see a few tiny fish swimming near the decaying dock Shiro’s grandpa built when he and Shiro’s grandma bought this place decades ago. Shiro warned her it wouldn’t hold their weight anymore -- neither would the boat that’s been dragged into the rushes, almost out of sight.

A shame, Keith thinks. It would have been fun to row it around the water with Shiro, maybe even fish; Shiro talked about it at the beginning of their trip, but lost her enthusiasm at Keith’s monosyllabic replies. The guilt weights.

The days at the cabin are getting near their end. She doesn’t know if she feels sad or relieved. It’s been nice, living in this quiet world, just her and Shiro. It’s also devastating how little they’ve actually talked about anything meaningful or important, instead only exchanging words that held no value, nothing worth treasuring. The guilt weights.

Shiro is already surfing on her back in the small waves the wind keeps blowing, she looks so serene. Peaceful as the sun glides on her muscled and scarred chest. She’s naked. Said she didn’t see the point of wearing a swimsuit since there’s no one but Keith watching. True but also weird in a way Keith’s not used to. Shiro has always been so comfortable with herself -- in so many more reasons than one.

Keith is trying to learn to do the same. She curls her arms tighter around her legs.

“Hey, landlubber!”

Keith looks up. She’s already grinning. “A what?” 

Shiro is swimming closer so that her feet reach the bottom of the lake. Her smile is golden.

“C’mere,” she says and crooks her forefinger in an inviting way. She laughs when Keith slips twice on the rock while tiptoeing to the water. She’s surprised how warm it is as she doesn’t even yelp when Shiro catches her in an embrace and kicks them father away from the beach.

Shiro has taken her prosthetic off so they don’t float too far from the dock, but Keith’s feet can’t meet the bottom by the time Shiro stops moving and the whole world seems to pause for this moment.

Keith can swim but Shiro keeps her arms around her anyway, Shiro’s naked breasts are pressed against Keith’s old band shirt she kept on. She has a tan and the scar across her nose looks more white against it. Keith kisses it gently, does it finally without thinking too hard about everything.

“I love you,” she murmurs.

Her eyes damp as Shiro only watches her for a moment, seeming to consider her words carefully.

“You know,” she says finally, looking thoughtful, “I wasn’t sure about that at first.”

Keith blinks away the sun to watch Shiro incredulously. Her expression is difficult to read.

“I know you’ve said it already,” she continues, stroking the underneath Keith’s t-shirt in idle circles.. “Do you remember?”

Keith shivers in Shiro’s embrace. It’s very quiet, it feels like even the lake is listening to their conversation that’s been a long time coming. Keith can only hear her own heartbeat rumbling like an earthquake.

“Of course,” Keith answers. Sometimes she wishes she could forget. “It was before we came here.”

Shiro sighs. “Yeah… I didn’t believe you then,” she admits, making Keith frown. “You were upset and hurt, clearly trying to convince and pressure yourself to be something you’re not. You weren’t ready.”

“I wanted to be,” Keith says, no, whispers. This is the first time she’s admitting it to herself. “I’m a… mess inside. Crazy with so many feelings I can’t even name, Shiro. You make me crazy, Shiro,” she whispers.

“I know,” Shiro says kindly. She tucks a wet hair strand behind Keith’s ear. “It’s okay, Keith. You’re only 25 years old. It’s more than okay not to be sure of what you want yet. It’s more than okay to explore and find out what you’re comfortable with. You don’t need to rush yourself to please me,” she says against Keith’s cool neck.

Keith opens her mouth to protest but nothing comes out, not even a breath.

“Sex is complicated,” Shiro says after biting a red mark on Keith’s skin. “Life is complicated. You don’t ever need to label yourself or find a certain word to describe you best. You can just be Keith.”

“Keith?”

“Yeah. Just Keith,” Shiro smiles, she’s already starting to get crows feet for spending so much time smiling. 

Keith presses her thumb against Shiro’s bottom lip. Can it really be this easy? It sounds too good to be true.

“My Keith,” Shiro whispers and Keith lets in the flood.

\- - -

They pack their bags the following night.

Shiro and Kosmo both pester her endlessly as she’s trying to fold her clothing into little piles to make them all fit in her bag. Kosmo keeps digging around in her bed, messing up the sheets and all her sweaters, seemingly excited to leave as well. And Shiro -- Shiro keeps holding her hostage against her steady chest, kissing her love to every place she has access to, laughing -- no, _giggling_ when Keith pushes her away and scolds her for bad behaviour.

Keith has never seen Shiro this happy, in a way no one could ever even pretend to be. She shines like a fucking polished diamond, cheeks flushed and mouth red and damp with kisses.

Keith will never, _never_, love anyone else like this. That is a truth she knows better than the back of her own hand, definitely better than she knows herself. Shiro’s words were true but painful after so many years of doubt. She still doesn’t quite know what to do with herself, there’s parts of her that demand answers, but for now, she feels okay.

Keith’s okay. The hurt and confusion are not gone, only on hiatus, but she feels better. 

It’s a strange feeling.

She can’t wait to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, sorry about the ~open & rushed ending!! It was kinda planned that way, I didn't want this huge climax at the end, haha. + I'm going to write something smaller, a sequel, for this AU later. Not sure when yet, maybe after I finish my other WIP which is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22117228/chapters/52788379) if you're interested. Fem!Sheith & selkies. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed the hammock sex, that was my favourite part, lmao. Comments make me happy, as always, but are not required. ♥


End file.
